


Anything For You

by starlark



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlark/pseuds/starlark
Summary: Fix it for Spectre.In the aftermath of Spectre, Q is working through the night to take his mind off of the way James just left them all and when James comes back it's not for a car.





	Anything For You

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything for this fandom before so hopefully this turned out okay.
> 
> I just wanted Spectre to end a different way.

It was late.

Or rather it was early.

Q wasn't sure how long he'd been sat in the depths of Q branch but somewhere along the way night had given way to early morning and he was fairly certain that outside, away from the enclosed, timeless spaces that his department had found itself situated in, dawn would be lightening the streets, bringing with it another grey and cloudy day if the weather reports were to be believed.

He didn't usually spend the whole night working like this. His hours were often very long, yes, and it would frequently be gone midnight when he left but it was rare for him to still be there come morning when there were no emergencies to attend to or missions that needed his attention.

Tonight though he needed to focus on something, needed to pull his thoughts away from the way Bond had turned away from them all so easily on that bridge and the thought that he would never see him again, would never again hear his voice over the comms, the controlled sound of it during an active operation or the softer, gentler tone of it during the quieter periods when all he could do was wait for the next part of his mission.

They had talked during those times. It had become rather a regular thing and so, when Bond was too restless to sleep and Q was still tinkering away with something through the late hours of the night, they would talk about everything and nothing, voices low as the hours slipped by without them even noticing.

Q would miss that. He would miss the teasing sound of Bond's voice as he ribbed him about his age, although they both knew Bond had moved past actually thinking it had an impact on his work. He would miss the quiet murmurings in his ear while he worked on a new piece of tech and talked to Bond at the same time. He would miss the steady sound of Bond's breathing when he drifted off to sleep during those conversations, the adrenaline rush of dodging bullets finally fading and his tiredness catching up with him.

Q knew he should have turned off the comms during those moments. It wasn't as if they could continue their conversation after all. But he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. The sound of Bond's breathing was soothing to him and he liked being able to hear that he was safe, even when he was in the most dangerous of places. Of course he knew that Bond was completely capable of protecting himself. He didn't need Q watching over him. But it was soothing none the less.

He probably should have realised sooner what that reluctance to close the channel meant, should have realised why he was always so much happier to see Bond than any of the other agents, even when it was accompanied by yet another lump of melted plastic that had once been one of his lovingly crafted gadgets.

He was going to miss that too, although he'd never admit it out loud. He would miss the sheepish look that always accompanied those deliveries of destroyed tech. He would always huff and complain but secretly there was a tiny bud of affection that started to bloom in his heart during those moments when Bond would try to convince him that there was no way he could have saved it and surely he wouldn't prefer him to come back in pieces instead.

And no, Q really wouldn't prefer that but it was the principle of the thing. He would tell him to be more careful in future and, if he was really talking about the cuts on Bonds face and the fractured ribs that he knew were hidden under his expensive suits rather than the mess of equipment he had been handed, then no one but him needed to know that.

He would miss too the proud look in Bond's eyes when he did manage to bring back one of his gadgets unharmed. He would saunter into Q branch with a triumphant look on his face, as if he'd just achieved the miraculous rather than simply not setting fire to all his gadgets or losing them in some distant river, and he would push the items into Q's hands, their fingers touching briefly as he passed them over.

See, he would say, looking victorious, not a lost cause yet. And Q would grumble about his track record rather implying the opposite but he wouldn't be able to hide the tiny curve of a smile that would start to form in the corner of his mouth and he knew that Bond could see it because his mouth would curl into a successful smile in response.

He would miss that smile most of all.

Q sighed and buried his head in his hands. He really wasn't helping himself with all this reminiscing. The point of working through the night had been to avoid such nonsense not to wallow in it anyway. Sighing again, he lifted his head and slid his glasses off, setting them in front of him as he rubbed at his tired eyes. His body wanted to sleep but he knew full well that going home would only entail a restless few hours in bed with nothing to think about other than the way his heart ached at the thought of never seeing Bond again, at the thought that he wasn't even worth a proper goodbye.

He had always known, logically, that Bond would never choose him but he hadn't realised how much it would still hurt when Bond just up and left without a word. He had thought they were friends, had thought he would at least warrant a goodbye, maybe even an 'I'll miss you'. But instead there had been nothing. The only comfort he could take was that everyone else had been abandoned in just the same way too.

Eve had been furious when she'd heard, although Q suspected most of that fury was in protection of him because she had kept darting worried looks at him as if he was going to shatter into a million pieces just because the man he loved had walked away from him, from them all, without a single word.

And maybe, he thought, it would be simpler to do that. Maybe it would even help. But he'd never been good at letting go like that and so instead he was there, throwing himself into his work with the intention of not stopping until he fell asleep. He wasn't working on anything dangerous, nothing that would explode in his hands if he made a mistake or fell asleep on it but it gave him something to focus on, something to divert his attention from blond hair and blue eyes and the way his heart thudded when he saw that ridiculous, infuriating, gloriously attractive smile.

The whir of the lift pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked up, shoving his glasses back onto his nose and trying to ignore the traitorous hopeful part of himself that wondered what if...

He told himself it was probably just someone else from Q branch arriving early, getting ahead of the rush so to speak. But he couldn't help the way he watched the doors anyway, thinking wistfully about late night conversations and small smiles over battered tech.

Even so he was surprised when the doors slid open to reveal the very man he had been thinking about. Yes, he had spent the whole night rather shamefully pining after him and wallowing in self pity, wishing that he could see him again, but he had never really considered that it might happen. Bond had been gone and Q had been fairly certain he wasn't coming back.

But there he was, stepping through the doors as if he belonged there and Q half expected him to hand him a pile of melted gadgets and ask him if he couldn't improve the heat resistance next time.

"007?" he found himself asking, standing up and rounding the table he was working at without even thinking about it.

"Q," was the measured response and Q still couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"I thought you were gone," he said, still shocked by Bond's sudden appearance and a small smile quirked its way across Bond's lips.

"Not so gone as previously thought," he replied and there was something in the way he was watching Q that sent his heart hammering in his chest.

"Does that mean you're staying?" he asked, hoping against hope that he might be allowed this, even if he couldn't have what he truly wanted with this man.

"If they'll have me," Bond said simply and Q scoffed, falling easily back into the way they usually were with each other, even as relief rushed through his veins.

"They always take you back," he told him with a careless wave of his hand. "As if they wouldn't."

"But what about other people?" Bond asked, taking a step closer, and Q was suddenly aware of how close they were, the way Bond was deliberately invading his space. He wasn't quite sure what that meant. Surely he couldn't...

"Well I think some of us at least deserved a goodbye," he said huffily instead of trying to figure out quite what was going on in Bond's head. "It wouldn't have been that difficult."

"I was going to send a postcard," Bond offers with an amused look. "'Greetings from some tropical beach. By the way I'm not dead' and all that."

Q levelled him with an unimpressed look. "And I suppose you would have spent only the time it took to buy and send a postcard at said tropical beach before moving on and covering your trail so that we couldn't possibly track you down."

"Well I've been told our Quartermaster is a truly brilliant man. If I let him catch my trail I might never shake him," Bond smiled, his eyes warm, and Q's heart flipped in his chest at the sight of that smile again.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, 007," he said, going for unaffected, but he wasn't sure he quite managed to keep the pleased note out of his voice.

"On the contrary, I'm hoping flattery will get me everywhere." Bond was still smiling and Q really wasn't sure what to make of that remark. Bond was so close and it was getting rather hard for Q's tired mind to avoid thinking about how easy it would be to step in even closer and...

He turned quickly, forcing himself to pace away from him and put some distance between them in order to think more clearly. In hindsight maybe staying up all night after the recent trying and exhausting events hadn't been his best of ideas because he had already been tired beforehand and now his control was slipping.

"What made you come back?" he asked as he moved away, pressing fingers up under his glasses to rub at his eyes before turning back to look at Bond, satisfied with the new amount of space between them. "I thought you and Dr Swann were..." He trailed off, unable to quite finish that sentence.

Bond looked slightly put out at his retreat and that had Q wondering once more but he quickly shut that thought down before it could take hold and lead him down a path that would only bring more sorrow when it was proven false.

"Madeleine and I parted ways," Bond answered, still watching Q. "As it turned out, neither of us were really what the other wanted." His eyes dipped to the floor and his expression turned chagrined. "It would appear I've been chasing the wrong person. I probably should have realised that sooner."

His eyes flicked up to Q again and there was something intense in them that hadn't been there before, something that made Q's breath catch in his chest and had that damned surge of hope starting up again.

"And who is the right person?" he asked cautiously, hardly daring to read into that look.

"I think we both know the answer to that."

"We really don't," Q replied. He hoped he knew, certainly, but if that was actually where Bond was going with this conversation then he was going to need him to damn well actually say it because all Q currently had were wishes and dreams and that wasn't enough to make him throw his mess of feelings out there and potentially humiliate himself if he was wrong.

"Don't play coy, Q. It doesn't suit you," Bond teased and Q huffed in annoyance.

"I'm not playing coy, 007. You're being deliberately evasive and I really don't have the energy right now to figure out what a trained spy isn't saying to me. In case you haven't noticed, I've had rather a trying few days so you're going to have to be a bit clearer if you want me to understand a word of what you're going on about."

Bond watched him for a moment and Q tried not to shift nervously under the weight of his gaze, tried not to show how uncertain this conversation had him feeling. Then Bond was moving, pacing over to him and stepping in close, his hands coming up to cup Q's face in his hands in a gesture that pulled a startled gasp from Q's lips at the unexpectedness of it.

"I apologise," Bond said softly, leaning in close to slide their noses together. "Is this clear enough?"

Something euphoric went dancing through Q's body and his heart fluttered, both at the touch and at his words. He took a shivering breath, his hands curling in the front of Bond's shirt.

"I dare say you could manage to be a bit clearer if you really put your mind to it, Bond," he managed to say and felt more than heard Bond let out an amused breath.

"Please, call me James," he murmured into the space between them, his voice low and intimate.

"James," Q found himself breathing in response and Bond, no, James made a satisfied sound, tilting his head slightly to bring their mouths closer. Q's eyes dipped shut but an instant later he was opening them again, pressing a hand to James' chest and turning his head to the side to avoid his mouth. "Wait."

"What's wrong?" James asked, sounding confused, and Q turned his head back to see the slight frown creasing his brow. His hands were still cupping Q's face, warm and strong against his skin, and it was so very tempting to simply lean forwards and fall into him but he needed to know that he wasn't diving headlong into heartbreak.

"What is this?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as if this moment, this whole fragile, tentative thing between them might shatter if he spoke too loudly.

"Well it was going to be a kiss," James said, a hint of amused teasing colouring his voice, and Q sighed. Of course he was going to be difficult about this too. But then what had he expected from a double-oh agent?

"This wouldn't be just a fling for me," he told him, voice still low and quiet. "I need to know it wouldn't be for you either."

There. He'd done it. He'd put himself out there and announced to the famously flighty James Bond that his feelings went beyond lust and a torrid one night stand. He'd be proud of himself if he wasn't so nervous.

James' thumb stroked along the edge of his jaw. "My dear Q, this wouldn't be a fling for me either. In fact, I would rather like to stay with you for as long as you'll have me."

And wasn't that an almost overwhelming declaration?

"That might be a very long time," Q admitted and James smiled.

"All the better for me," he said, looking pleased and Q couldn't stop the way he smiled back, joy singing through his veins and warming him through.

"I think I'd like that kiss now," he said softly and James' smile grew.

"Anything for you, Q," he responded and he sounded like he meant it. Then he was ducking his head and sealing their mouths together, kissing him with a gentleness Q hadn't quite expected. Their lips parted against each other and the kiss deepened, staying slow and careful but becoming more searching, a relaxed exploration of each other that had Q sighing into the kiss and sliding his arms around James' neck to pull him closer.

One of James' hands found its way into his hair, tilting his head slightly to change the angle of the kiss and then stroking gently, and Q made a low, pleased sound at the touch, pressing closer and losing himself in the slow movement of their mouths, the steady stroke of James' fingers through his hair. A hysterical part of his mind kept repeating that he was kissing _James Bond_ and another part of him couldn't help thinking that maybe this was all actually just a dream and he was actually fast asleep over the piece of tech he had been working on earlier but then James' tongue stroked against his and he stopped thinking at all.

When they finally pulled apart, Q had no idea how much time had passed but it felt simultaneously like an age and nowhere near long enough. He could only be glad that no one else had come in during that time because, to his shame, he wasn't entirely sure he would have even noticed. He tried to chase after James' mouth as they parted and James let him steal a quick, chaste kiss but then he was pulling away again, looking amused at the disgruntled sound Q made in response.

"You need to get some sleep," he said, rubbing a thumb under one of Q's eyes, and Q wondered if he really looked that tired. He decided that he probably did. He had a bad habit of ending up with dark shadows under his eyes from late nights spent working in Q branch and the last few days had been even more tiring than usual. Certainly if he looked the way he felt then his tiredness had to be showing.

Still he quirked a smile and said, "you're not getting me into bed that easily, 007."

"That wasn't a line and you know it," James told him fondly, stroking a hand down his back.

"I know," Q admitted, tucking his head against James' shoulder. "Just let me enjoy this a little bit longer first. There's a high probability that I'm delirious from lack of sleep and if this does all turn out to be a figment of my imagination I'd rather like to make the most of it while I can."

"You're not imagining me, Q," James told him, sounding faintly amused again, and Q shushed him tiredly, turning his face into his neck.

James made a quiet sound of acquiescence, his hand coming to rest in the space between Q's shoulder blades even as his other hand started stroking his hair again. They stayed like that for long minutes and Q drank in the warmth of James' body and the feeling of his strong hands on him. It didn't take long for it to start making him drowsy though, his fatigue catching up with him, sped up by the warmth and comfort of standing like this with the man he loved and, when he muffled a yawn into James' neck, James pulled away again to look at him with affection.

"Go home, Quartermaster," he said, his voice warm and Q sighed, knowing that he was right but not wanting to leave when they had just admitted to this thing between them. James seemed to notice his hesitancy though because he pressed a slow kiss to his lips. "Get some sleep and then if you're amenable I can take you out for dinner tonight?"

Q smiled, already looking forward to it. "I think I could be very amenable to that," he said, stealing one last kiss and then turning to grab his laptop. "But you're paying. You at least owe me that much. A postcard from some tropical beach, I mean really James."

When he turned back James was smiling at his grumbling, a fond expression in his eyes that Q still couldn't quite believe was aimed at him.

"Goodbye, Q," he said with a pointed look at the door and Q gave a put upon sigh as he gathered his bag and headed for it, lingering in the doorway to look back at him.

"Until tonight...James," he murmured and just caught the almost tender look on James' face before turning away intent on heading home to finally, finally get some rest.

As he walked through the hallways of MI6 he couldn't quite keep the smile from his face and he let it linger, secure in the knowledge that there were few to see it at this hour. James was back and more than that he returned the feelings Q had long thought were hopelessly unrequited. It truly had been an eventful few days.

**Author's Note:**

> So hopefully you liked this.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
